CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. He began to tell me something—and stopped. Her complexion had resisted the snow-glare wonderfully; her skin had only deepened its natural warmth a little under the Alpine sun. “To think that you were going to do it—and never said a word! You are a little thin, but except for that you look—you look better than ever. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. “It’s about forty pounds. Ennison slightly——” There was a dead silence in the little room.
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